Danu Talis: Aftermath: Till I Hear You Sing
by willshakespeare-immortalbard
Summary: This is another songfic-not compliant with my other ones. It's very sad...but just friendship. Please read/review.


**A/N—I apologize in advance for any excessive weeping that will follow the reading of the piece. It's **_**very**_** depressing, and even I got a little choked up writing it. You have been warned. **

**This piece concentrates on Palamedes. I'm hurting him this time, though Will suffers too. I'm sorry. It's just the way I rumba. **

**I don't own this—Michael Scott does. Also, I don't own **_**Till I Hear You Sing**_**. Andrew Lloyd Webber does. Him and the producers of **_**Love Never Dies**_**.**

**This contains spoilers for **_**The Necromancer**_**. Please don't read this if you haven't read the book. This is also a friendship piece. I just got this little muse in my head—the voices are unbearable, really—and I had to write it. But there is nothing present in here except friendship. Just so you know. **

**Many thanks for your support!**

**willshakespeare-immortalbard**

**DANU TALIS: AFTERMATH: TILL I HEAR YOU SING**

_The day starts..._

Half a shimmering golden globe, slowly reaching the horizon, blurred by the tears that make his eyes ache. 

_The day ends..._

A blood red view, dark colors bleeding onto the razed remains of the Danu Talis skyline.

_Time crawls by..._

Palamedes sinks into a chair. Even the simple action seems to take a lifetime, and he can't believe, when he finally looks up at the sky again, that the sun is still visible, bloody and burning on the horizon. The glassless window frame the destruction, like a picture, or a painting, and his tears turn it to watercolors.

_Night steals in, pacing the floor..._

Already, darkness is beginning to seep into the room, mixing its black hue with the red streams of light that the dying sun emitted. Palamedes watches, emotionless, as the shadows slowly overcome the light, banishing it to the distant horizon, where it sinks with the sun into oblivion.

_The moments creep..._

"Pally?" Trembling voices, hardly daring to speak, yet needing to.  "Pally, are you coming?"

"Later." Why bother with more words? They know what he needs.

Time crawls, slowly, sluggishly, each minute spanning a horrific lifetime.

_Yet I can't bear to sleep_...

His eyelids are heavy. But sleep won't come. It hasn't. Not since the battle...not since he realized that he was never, ever going to hear that voice again.

_Till I Hear You Sing..._

_ Weeks pass, and months pass..._

Even the seconds are slower, merging together into an interminable black hole of pain and loss.

_Seasons fly..._

Palamedes takes a trembling breath, and scans the room, searching, searching. His eyes find the door—just an empty hole in the wall, though ornately carved—and he waits. Waits for the soft tap of feet, and the pleasant voice, precise and clear, that always follows.

_Still you don't walk through the door..._

He knows Will isn't coming. He knows that Will can't come. But it doesn't stop him from waiting.

_And in a haze, I count the silent days..._

Though immortal, he's still human. And eventually, sleep deprivation and lack of food will kill him. It's just a matter of time.

_Till I Hear You Sing...once more..._

_ And sometimes..._

Regardless of his plans, sleep takes him, and his tortured brain plunges into a nightmare.

_At night time..._

Explosions. Screams. Blood—wet and sticky, all over his hands. And then, suddenly, the battle fades, and he's back in the junkyard, and Will's working on a car, covered in oil and grease...

_I dream that you are there..._

But then the reality of wakefulness yanks him from his restless slumber, and he's alone in the dark room of Danu Talis.

_But wake holding nothing but the empty air..._

_ And years come..._

The pale light of the rising sun signals the advent of day.

_And years go..._

The night slips away, lurking off into the dark corners that the sun can't reach.

_Time runs dry..._

A few slanted rays illuminate a heavy book sitting on the table next to him. It wasn't there the evening before.

_Still I ache down to the core..._

His heart cracks as he catches a glimpse of the words on the spine: _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_ and he closes his eyes, groping blindly for the book.

_My broken soul can't be alive and whole..._

The pages are smooth beneath his fingers, and he flips through the book, searching by thickness for the play he's looking for. _Othello_. It's easy to find—it's always near the back, when the edges of the pages are barely larger than your fingertip, and it's only then that he opens his eyes again, to see all the little words scattered across the page. Line after line after line after line after line. Words. Will's words.

_Till I Hear You Sing...once more..._

He stands, pacing, his sore throat working out the lines, and the slowly brightening room echoes with his deep voice as he speaks, his voice rising, until he's almost yelling, his pain seeping into the words.

_And music...your music...it teases at my ear..._

His heart hammers against his chest, making his breath short and harsh, and he falters slightly on a line as, for just a moment, he thinks he hears Will speaking along with him. But his pause reveals only silence.

_I turn and it fades away...and you're not here..._

Anger overwhelms him, and he gives a ragged cry of rage and loss. The book flies from his hand, slamming into the wall with a thud. It lands cover up, and Palamedes sees the picture on the cover.

_Let hopes pass..._

He brings his hand to his face, and feels the tears there.

_Let dreams pass..._

Everything blurs, and his hand becomes a black veil covering his eyes.

_Let them die..._

As pain replaces the fire of rage, he crosses the room, stooping to pick up the book. He falls to his knees, and kneels there, crying, staring helplessly at the picture.

_Without you, what are they for...?_

The sun rises, shedding happy light on the room, and the large figure kneeling alone in the corner.

_I always feel no more than half-way real... _

"Pally?" The voices return, searching for him, pain and sympathy lining their tones as they realize that he had finally let go.

_Till I Hear You Sing..._

Hands on his shoulders, pulling him up, taking the book from his hands.

_Once..._

Leading him away, until the only thing left in the sunny room is an abandoned volume of Shakespeare_._

_ More..._

FIN

**Thanks again for reading, and I'm sorry if it was sad. I've been trying to write happier things, but it's just not in my nature. It's a struggle, really. So I apologize again, but I hope you enjoyed this. Please read/review!**


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